


Dearly Beloved

by chickadee



Category: King of Scars - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickadee/pseuds/chickadee
Summary: A stolen moment between Nikolai and Zoya.





	Dearly Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: contains spoilers for King of Scars. Also contains so much angst.

Zoya leaned against the half-opened door to his bedchamber and watched as he fussed with the snowy white neck cloth in an overwrought gilt mirror.

“Genya told me you’re stalling,” she chastised. Nikolai turned, giving her a cheeky grin as he flicked the fabric with one long finger.

“I can’t get this damned thing—”

“Here, let me.” She crossed the room with all the determination of a war general on campaign. 

She reached for him without hesitation, dragon scales flashing at her wrists as the sleeves of her Kefta fell back, her Squaller hands strong and steady, as she pulled on one end of the complicated knot, then the other. 

She stepped back, arms akimbo, and tipped her head one way, then the other, before stepping back into him, like a dance.

When they spent so much time in committee meetings and across formal dining tables, he tended to forget that Zoya Nazyalensky, Commander of the Joint Ravkan Armies, with the presence of an ancient dragon, barely came up to his chin.

Nikolai breathed the air from the top of her head and willed himself not to reach out to palm the curve of her waist while she went back to fidgeting at his neck.

“Commander and valet. You deserve a raise.” Her eyes rose up to meet his. 

“I accept overtime payment in the form of jewels and silks, dear.” 

Their witty repartee was forced, but Nikolai clung to it like a bit of driftwood in a shipwreck.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in pretty silks, Nazyalensky. Only these old blue frocks.” Feeling bold, and wondering is this might be his last chance, Nikolai slid a finger along the neckline of her kefta, following its dip and heave as Zoya let out a ragged breath. 

“While this kefta is already the very finest silk Ravka’s coffers could provide, I do occasionally hang it up and let my hair down.” The fingers of both his hands were combing through her dark hair before Nikolai knew what he was doing. As for Zoya, her grip had gone fierce and panicked on his cravat, surely wrinkling the delicate fabric. 

“I don’t want to do this, Zoya.” Her eyes were wide and frantic when he met her gaze. He’d never seen her so unnerved. 

“You have to.” Her voice was strangled. “For Ravka.”

“Hang Ravka. I want—“ He stopped himself before finishing his sentence. _You. I want you._

“You put a thorn through your own heart for Ravka. This? This is a piece of cake. Literally. I have seen the cake and it is exquisite. Nina will never forgive us for eating it without her.” 

“Would you do it if I told you it was your duty? Marry someone you don’t know, don’t like, just to save your neck from certain doom?” Zoya trembled and his hands tightened in her hair, drawing her a hairsbreadth closer. He suspected there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not the king.” Her hands smoothed the fabric she had already wrinkled hopelessly.

“Ah, yes, merely the most powerful Grisha alive, most esteemed Ravkan General, and the most vivacious best man the Apparat has ever had stand up at a wedding ceremony.” Zoya’s smile lit up the room. 

“And you, darling, are going to be the most beautiful bride.” Nikolai chuckled. 

“Is my cravat knot ok?” Her fidgeting hands stilled on the cloth.

“It was perfect before I walked into this room and you know it.” One of his golden eyebrows arched.

“Then, why?” 

Zoya hesitated, and then let her hands slide up his neck to thumb at the spot that his golden hair met the warm skin under each ear. 

“I just wanted to do this. Once.” 

And then her soft lips met his with a tenderness that ripped out his heart and threw it across the room. 

Before Nikolai could kiss her back, could clutch her to his chest and ask her to stay there forever, could even begin to form the words he had wanted to tell her for so long, Zoya spun on her heel and left the room. And like any good Squaller, the sight of her leaving stole the very air from his lungs. 

**** 

The people of Ravka talked of that night for years to come. Stories were passed down to children and grandchildren until the details were muddied like any good folklore - the way the King spun his plain-faced Queen on the dance floor till dawn, the way fireworks were lit in towns from coast to coast, and the way townspeople from Arkesk to Poliznaya spotted a gleaming dragon pacing the skies, wailing her heartbreak to the starless night.


End file.
